Summary: 'Some knowledge and some song and some beauty must be kept for those days before the world again plunges into darkness.' - Marion Zimmer Bradley.
Author's Notes: While I might have several different projects in the works at one point, it is typically in my nature to refrain from posting two at a time unless one is already complete. However, in this case, my betas have prompted me to go ahead get it out there. Thus if updates come a little slow, it's because I'm bustling for two instead of the usual one.
As Kimmie can attest, just minutes after the AtS finale aired, I was jotting down ideas in my notebook to satisfy my need for closure. This is the result. It's going to be relatively short-hopefully no more than five parts, but then, it really only has one objective.
My thanks again to my wonderful betas. This one's for you two. And for Spike as well, who made the Buffyverse my most cherished retreat.
Rating: R
A/N: Some major coolness. Harbingers of Beatrice won Best Crossover and was runner-up for Best Romance at Love's Last Glimpse awards. My endless awe and thanks to whoever was kind enough to nominate me, as well as all my wonderful readers. Thank you!
Also, there has been some dispute about The Immortal. I've heard some say one thing, and others say another. (Obviously, as all disputes go) For my purposes, he was a vampire.
His voice was raspy with disuse, and there was an odd, unpleasant flavor haunting his mouth. But in all honesty, that was an afterthought.
He was looking at Buffy. And she was looking back.
A still air huddled the atmosphere, daring them to break the solace of non-understanding. Non-understanding was good. It was safe and refrained from the harder issues that would only hurt once deciphered. The sparks drawn between their gazes alone were enough to drown the most capable of beings.
Then she was speaking. "I...uhhh...water. Would you like a glass of water?"
A glass of water?
His look must have grown skeptical, for she immediately flushed and glanced down, hands clasping nearly piously in front of her. "I...your throat sounds hoarse."
"'S a li'l scratchy."
"I can get you a glass of water. That'll help."
There was a pause as he attempted to collect himself. Gathering the bearings of all that had occurred while maintaining a pathway to a simpler self-structure. "What happened?"
"You've been out for a couple days. I found you, and you were out." She smiled softly, returning to his side with a glass of water. Spike snatched it from her grasp without fully realizing the hand that offered, guzzling it down as though his body suddenly depended on it.
"More?"
He nodded. She disappeared and returned again with a refill. His previous cynicism forgotten, he drank as though there was no bearing end. So much that dribbles rolled down his chin-unshaven? Strange-but he didn't care. And somewhere in the middle of it all, the lasting strands of the final battle came soaring back, and he threw his head back with a gasp.
"What happened?" he asked again.
Her eyes were calm and betrayed nothing. She was simply studying him. "You and Angel took on Wolfram and Hart, remember?"
Spike thought for a minute before he nodded. "Did we win?"
There was a kind, respectful smile at that. "Yeah."
"Did everyone make it? 'S Charlie an' Illyria an' Peaches...where are they?" His brow furrowed in concentration. "Wes's dead. I remember that. Where's everyone else?"
"Illyria's the blue one, right?"
He nodded.
"She's alive. Recuperating. Angel's fine, too. He left to go find his girlfriend or something." She cast her eyes downwards. "Charles Gunn? Is that the other one you mentioned?" There was another nod of confirmation; he knew where this one was going. "They're saying he didn't last long. He took down what he could, but he died."
Spike couldn't find reaction at that. He opted for the safer silence.
Before it finally dawned on him that he was sitting here, talking with the Slayer. His Slayer. That she was with him at all.
And he looked up again in astonishment.
"Buffy...what are you doin' here?" He squinted and attempted to sit up, the motion causing shards of pain to itch through injured skin and attack every raw nerve that remained vibrant with verve. A small groan edged through his lips, and he shook his head to wane the feeling away. "Come to think of it...what am I doin' here? Where are we?"
She pursed her lips and considered him. It was then he noticed she was trembling. His Slayer was trembling. Well, that was odd. He was still half-convinced that he was dreaming or-at worst-dead, and thus did not inquire. The idea that she would be here with him now, of all times, was inconceivable.
"We're in a hospital."
He couldn't help it; he quirked a brow. "A what?"
"A hospital."
"A real one?"
She shifted slightly and a humorless chuckle rumbled through her lips, touched again with a bit of her own nervousness. It was such a strange color on her. Despite everything, Spike didn't reckon he had ever seen the Slayer thoroughly unhinged to the point where she didn't know what to say. At least toward the end. In the disastrous turmoil that had been their relationship, she had often come unglued, but never to the point of losing her ability to voice what she was thinking. "Well," she replied, voice oddly high-pitched. "It's not a movie-set, that's for sure."
He merely looked at her.
"Uhhh...Giles said it was some infirmary for beings of the demonic persuasion." She shrugged. "It was the only place we could think to bring you."
Well, that explained the searing pain.
"Bring me? What happened?"
And suddenly, she was in control again. Just like that. No transitional period of adjustment. No collecting herself for his benefit. In a flash, her insecurity vanished and she was as he remembered her. A tower of strength. Fortitude pouring off her body in waves so powerful he was amazed that he hadn't yet drowned, even if such was impossible.
"You tell me," she replied coolly. "Three days ago, I was in Italy, minding my own business, then I get this call from Giles that says Angel's taking on Wolfram and Hart. And here's the really funny part-he said you were alive."
Spike blinked and ignored the pain that jabbed his side for no reason other than it was there and wanted to be remembered. He was staring at her with such intensity that he nearly forgot everything else.
"Not alive, pet. Still dead. Jus' less dead than the last time you saw me." He offered a dry chuckle, wincing as he moved to sit up a little more. "Guess I owe that last part to you an' the Scoobs, right? Bloody rot, what does it take to keep you an' yours out of every apocalypse? We had this one handled."
"You were dying."
"Vamps don' die from picks at our sides, luv. I'd hope as a Slayer, you'd've picked that up by now."
"If Willow and her coven hadn't been there, you, Angel, and that blue girl would've been lost. But goddammit, Spike, that's not the point." Her eyes were wide now; demanding, imploring. She looked to be on the edge of collapse already. As though seeing him lent pause to every vibe of internal strength she had ever mustered. "You've...you're here. You...you..."
"Yeh. An' I'm noticin' you are, too. Don' you have some bloody replacement to be snoggin' right about now? Talk, dark...soulless, I might add." He shook his head with an ironic, bitter chuckle. "Y'know, I can't decide what's funnier. The endin' result where you come here actin' like I've been a righteous wanker when you've obviously been havin' the bloody time of your life, or the part where all of a sudden, you don' care if your current lay has a sparkly conscience in his benefit. Gotta say, Slayer. Love your versatility." He snorted and turned away, doing his damndest to ignore the sparks of pain that shot behind her eyes. "Guess I can't begrudge you, though, right? Gettin' a soul was for my own good. 'm so glad that it still matters to you."
The imminence of her tears grew even sharper. "That's not fair."
"Ask me 'f I care. Guess I owe you one for the rescue bit, but for everythin' else, consider us even." He cocked his head heatedly. "Jus' don' come here preachin' that I've wronged you by not ringin' you up the bloody instant I got mojo'ed back 'f I was so bloody expendable."
She stared at him for a long, silent moment. He still refused to look at her. It was strange, changing seasons so effortlessly. The instant bout of glee that had burst through his system was immeasurably beat down for reminder of everything he didn't want to remember. Flashes of death alongside the image he had done his best to eradicate of her and the bloody Immortal shagging like bunnies. The days following his leave of Italy had been easier to deal with than they could have been because he knew what lied ahead. Ignoring what was eating away at his insides was simply a matter of prioritizing. Forgetting what he had seen. What he knew.
But despite everything, he couldn't block it all out. And in the few beats he had allowed himself between trying to figure out why Angel was suddenly playing for the wrong team to deciding what poems to read for his audience, the frustration he had felt in Italy had transcended to hurt and anger.
Buffy with The Immortal. With the soulless Immortal. As if his gift to her had not meant a thing. As if everything she had put him through when he was trying to win her heart was in vain. As if everything they had ever shared meant a resounding and definitive nothing.
Thus he had blocked it. Refused himself to consider his angered hurt.
It was different with her standing here. And God, why was she standing here? Why now? To rub salt on the many wounds he was sporting? To make it hurt worse? This was not what he needed, especially with the face he knew she wore. The narcissism of it all only served to deepen the scorn.
Didn't bloody matter how much he had looked forward to seeing her again. How much he had missed her. All of that was gone. It couldn't be up for sale. And now that he was back to himself, he remembered everything.
When she spoke again, he could hear the steady slide of tears in her voice. The same that she covered well but not well enough. "This is not how I imagined it," she whispered. "Not how I imagined our first...after you woke up."
"Yeh," he retorted coldly. "Take it from me, sweetheart, things don' always go as you imagine them."
"Spike..."
"In fact, 'f you take a chapter outta my book, things usually end up pretty shitty."
"It's over, Spike." That coaxed his eyes back to her, his eyes wide and imploring. He wisely ignored the way his chest constricted at the emotion she bade him. Buffy plus emotion equaled him at her beck and call, and he couldn't stand for that. Not now. Not now when all she had to do was pinch him to make it hurt worse than ever before. "With...I'm no longer seeing The Immortal."
He quirked his head. "So sorry, luv. Here. Want me to ring up the orderly an' have 'em bring you some tissue?"
"Stop it."
"Well, I understand he is a world-class lover. That must be rough."
It felt good for the first few seconds; watching her pain deepen as he twisted the knife to see how much he could make her bleed. Anger was easy. He knew anger. And the hurt she gave him extended to the very beginning of their relationship. But as the silence between them expanded uncomfortably, the pang striking his heart cried out its remorse. And suddenly, it wasn't fun anymore.
"You big idiot," she finally gasped, wiping at her eyes. "I'm the one that ended it. I told him sayonara and came here. To you."
"Grand gesture, that is."
Buffy shook her head, hands going to her temples. "You didn't even try, Spike. Hell, Andrew tells me you told him not to mention that you were alive. That you were all right." A sob choked through her throat and she sent an impatient stomp to the floor. "Christ, do you know what I went through?"
"So much that you started shagging random vamps to see 'f all went good 'cause of you? 'F so, sorry to disappoint you, Sweets. I'm one of a bloody kind." Spike sat up a little, heaving a tired breath at his effort. "An' I tried. Several times. Was ghostly there for a while, but once Wolfram an' Hart decided to give me my skin back, I was off beatin' Peaches for some bloody prophecy that turned out to be bollocks. Then things got hairy. People I cared about started dyin'. An' by the time we received word from you, you were shaggin' The Immortal. So honestly, tell me, sweetheart, what's a bloke to think?"
"That he doesn't know all the facts."
"Andrew says you snuggle."
"You and I snuggled."
"Toward the end when you knew there was gonna be nothin'. Yeh, you let down your walls. Let me have one bloody night when you weren' judgin' me. When you let me believe anythin' about us could ever be real." Spike sat up further, his eyes glistening with intent. "Don' get me wrong. We were on the way to somethin', there. But I guess that ship's sailed. No more where I come from. 'm through playin' at this angle, luv. 'm through tryin' to guess what you're thinkin'. I've done everythin' I can. I turned the world upside down for you, then right side up again. I sought out my soul 'cause of what it meant for you. For us. I bloody well saved the world so that you could live in it. Me an' my soul. One cute li'l couple we are."
Buffy shook her head heatedly, somehow ignoring the tears that were mapping down her face. "You don't know what I went through," she spat in return. "Every day after you were gone. It didn't really sink in until we stopped that night for a motel that you weren't with us. Not until I realized I was by myself. And then my world collapsed, Spike. My whole world collapsed because you weren't there."
"Funny. An' here, I always thought you wanted me gone."
"Not then. Not with what we had."
He chuckled humorlessly at that. "'S that right? An' what exactly did we have? A house in the suburbs with a white picket fence an' the two point five kids you've always dreamed of? You make it sound like there was somethin' to salvage. Tell me, luv, when did we ever have anythin' to save? You spent most nights tryin' to convince me that my leavin' was the best thing that could happen to you."
"Not after you came back! Not after-"
"The soul. Right. An' you've made perfectly clear how much those matter to you."
She stared at him with wan amazement; the light behind her eyes finally coaxing him to look away again. "You think it doesn't matter to me?" she whispered, astonished. "You really think that I don't...that what you did doesn't...Spike, what you did changed my life. It made me...I don't even know what it made me, and I didn't realize how it had changed my life until it was changed. Until..." She stifled a sob, wiping her eyes irritably. "Until you were gone."
Spike tried hard to ignore how those words affected him. He didn't want to give her that. Didn't want to believe anything she was saying. He needed so desperately to remain angry with her. To maintain that much of himself. To remember how he felt the moment that he realized everything he had sacrificed meant...
But with her standing so near. With the scent of her tears perturbing the air...he came close to losing all sense of self. And dammit, he needed his anger.
Perhaps that was all that love had taught him. How to hurt someone before they had a chance of hurting him. It made sense. With everything he knew, everything he had experienced, there was nothing but pain to be bought from reckoning.
"'ve changed, too," he said a minute later. "'m not some wide-eyed heartsick fool. You taught me how to outgrow that. I don' need this right now. I have...there are others...you can't jus' barge into my life whenever you bloody well feel like it! I din't with yours. I stayed away. Right where I was s'posed to. I-"
Buffy held up a hand, drawing his gaze back to her. She was as white as a sheet.
"Others?"
"Come again?"
"Are you..." She paused, her own eyes falling shut. "Are you...with someone else?"
Might as well go for below the belt. She had hurt him; turnabout was fair play. "Aside from shaggin' Harm, no."
The look that pained her face made him instantly regret that he had even mentioned that daft bint. And that was why he had to run with it. That reason for retribution. For what hurt him the most was the knowledge that he loved her now more than ever before. For who she was and what she gave. The light half to his darkened shadow. Buffy was his light. His goddess. His salvation. He loved her so much, and that gave her the power to hurt him. Whether or not she meant to.
The next breath she took was uncertain and trembled against the strain of her despondency. "You're with Harmony?"
Spike softened at that. Not much, but some. There was no reason to purposefully mislead her. "No, luv. I'm not. Jus' once...an' that was right after I was mojo'ed back in the full. I jus'...I needed to work out the hardware, y'know?"
"Oh, so you got on my case for waiting for months before even looking at another man and you're off screwing the first leggy blonde that crosses your path?"
"I was thinkin' about you, 'f it makes you feel any better." But dammit, no. He wasn't supposed to try and make her feel better. And yet, he kept on talking. "An' she knew. Harm did. She bit me an' she yelled at me for thinkin' about you. 'Course, she was under some wonky spell, but 's the thought that counts."
Buffy nodded sardonically. "And I suppose that's supposed to make it all right?"
"You tell me. Mine was straight up sex. Yours was a relationship with a soulless vampire." He cocked his head inquisitively. "Tell me, sweetheart, did you beat the livin' piss outta him in some alley for offerin' to protect you with his life? Did you call him an' evil, disgustin' thing every time he looked at you? Touched you? When he was whisperin' sweet nothing's in your ear, did you turn back to him an' remind him that he's not a man, an' he can never touch that part of you that you reserve for the real heroes in your life? 'Cause, honey, 'm liable to get jealous 'f you did. That was somethin' jus' for us. I don' like sharin' my song with others."
She shook her head, glaring at him through her tears. "You bastard."
"Goes with the territory." Spike favored her with a long leer. "I don' bend over backwards anymore, luv. Not for you. Not for anyone. 'F you thought comin' here would change my mind..."
"I thought you cared about me."
He stilled a little at that, battling back the multitude of 'I love yous' that fought his mouth and will for release. Fought the urge in his arms that begged him to take her into a comforting embrace and reassure her that he would always be here if she needed him. That a thousand deaths in a thousand years and all the blood in the world could never eradicate how much he loved her. How much he wanted to go to her over the past few months. How he drew himself to the point that he was wasting his own time, wallowing in the pitiful ruins of yesterday.
"Why did you come here?" he retorted, straying safely to the side of the road that wouldn't see his efforts instantaneously flattened.
She glanced down. "We had to save the world. Wesley called. I told you that."
"So you jumped on your sodding white horse an' came in to rescue all its lovely li'l bits, 's that it?"
"Something like."
"Anyone ever tell you that hell is paved with good Samaritans?"
Buffy rumbled a sigh and looked up again. "You, Spike. I came here for you. Giles told me that Wes wanted me to know, and I came here because I had to...because you were here."
"You ended it with loverboy for me?"
"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you. That's what-"
"For all you know, I could've been with someone by now." He instantly berated himself for the way her face fell again, but refused to backtrack. "Knew you were lost to me."
"You told me once that another girl would never mean anything to you."
"Romantics talk. I was a lovesick fool. An' even so, you really s'pect me to spend the whole of eternity by myself?" He was lying now. All out lying. Turning his back on every nerve in his body that commanded him otherwise. And the part of him that demanded her blood in turn for all the pain she had caused him called out in jubilee. The rest of him died all over again, only it wasn't as easy this time around.
"...And are you? With anyone?"
There was a still beat. "Thought I told you."
"You told me you aren't with Harmony. But-"
Spike leaned back speculatively. "Well, there was Fred there for a while. Winifred." He felt the urge to clarify when her eyes widened in astonishment. "Wesley's girl. Thought she'd taken a shine to me." One more look from her solidified it; he couldn't go on pretending. Thus with a defeated sigh, he glanced down and shook his head. "No. 'm not with anyone."
"And what you said? What you told me?"
"I still mean every word of it. I always will."
Buffy cried out in angered frustration, her arms falling to her sides. "Then why...I'm here because I want...I've missed you. I've missed you so much. More than I ever thought I could miss a person. And yes, I've lived. I've moved on. I got over the part where I mourned you and I started to be me again. Dating being one of them. But I didn't forget you. And I thought..."
"What? That you'd show up, rescue me from the baddies, an' we'd live happily ever after?"
There was no answer; she shifted uncomfortably but nothing more.
"'F there was one thing you taught me, luv, 's that there is no happily ever after. I tried givin' you the world an' you threw it back at me." He shook his head. "An' the amazin' thing is, while it aggravated the hell outta me, I always figured at some level or another that I deserved it. I am a vampire. I am a monster. I am responsible for much of the slaughter in late nineteenth century Europe. But I was never that to you. Never. Not after I loved you. But it wasn' enough, an' I accepted that. Bloody hell, I proved it to myself the night I..." He trailed off, flinching at the faintest memory of what he had almost done. There was an obligatory pause before he felt he could continue. "But seein' you in Italy...bein' that bloody close...an' knowin' that after everythin' I'd sacrificed for you was worth rot. It jus'...there can be no happy endin' for us. It hurts to even look at you. An' I can't get past that."
The sound of her tear-scented breaths filled the air in place of words, and the torment in her voice nearly killed him when she spoke again. "You...you can't mean that."
Spike swallowed hard and gathered himself. If he wavered, he would collapse with her around him, and never let her go.
He had to let her go.
For both their sakes.
Thus, when he felt he could, he summoned the entirety of his conviction and met her eyes with more of what could not be doubted. Buried there beneath the burden of self-discovery. What he knew without wanting to know. The nuisance of understanding burned him to the core of reasonability, but he would not back away. Not now.
Not like this.
He was killing them both just to see if he could get away with it.
"Then how come I do?"
And that was it. All he could say. Everything that he could muster summarized in five simple words. And he watched as the woman he loved dissolved into tears because of his refusal. Because of everything he could not let her have. For all the pain he couldn't push him through again.
Spike wanted to go to her more than anything. But he didn't. Instead, he turned away as she continued to weep. Success had never tasted so bitter.
He could only hope she drowned them both with her tears.
Spike didn't realize that he had fallen asleep until he started awake in the iron darkness of his wing. It took a few minutes for everything to come rushing back, but not nearly as long as he would have liked. He indulged a few minutes to himself; releasing small, quaking breaths that made his body tremble for the weight of their unexpected necessity. He had never felt the urge to breathe before as he did now. It burned him with need. As though the weight of existence depended on it.
It didn't take long to decipher that he wasn't alone in the room. Another beat and he knew he wasn't even alone in the bed. Her sweet scent encompassed him, tied in with the knowledge of the tears she had shed. It angered and hurt all within the same swoop. Those were two emotions he could easily learn to live without.
He had hoped that their earlier conversation would have put an end to this, because he wasn't sure how reliable his defenses were. It was a hard bargain, driving a man who finally had what he had wanted for years to a point where accepting meant the denial of everything he was. Buffy was in his bed because she wanted to be. She had traveled across the ocean because this was where she said she belonged. She had ended it with The Immortal because he was alive. She was offering her hand in unity. A chance at everything he had wanted for so long.
But she had betrayed him. She had betrayed him and herself. Her own bloody convictions. The weight of every promise she gave that he had never doubted. The feel of her impounding self-loathing as it poured onto his being. He couldn't take it. Not from her. Not after everything they had gone through together.
He was not going to be some consolation prize.
Spike's hands fisted. He couldn't have her. She was off-limits.
A small whimper rang through the air and he felt her shudder behind him. And he realized the next instant that she was awake. She was awake and crying.
Oh God.
Can't give me a bloody break, can you?
He didn't know if he was demanding that of God or his own weakened resolution. He hated tears. Hated them on himself but most especially on people he loved. When Buffy wept, it crumpled everything he was.
At that moment, he would have given everything in the world not to love her as he did, because this was going to cause more pain than he felt he deserved. And not for what he should say.
For what he shouldn't.
"Buffy?" There was a jump and a sharp gasp. He was surprised that she hadn't sensed him awaken. Spike drew in a breath and switched sides to face her, his eyes taking in the expanse of her back with a watering gaze and hands that ached to touch her. "Pet? Come on, don' do this."
"Sorry," she said hoarsely.
"We're beyond sorry's. Have been for years."
He immediately regretted saying it, but did not offer to take it back. And she did not call him on it. Instead, she shivered and nodded her agreement, remaining steadfast with her back to him, shifting slightly so he could see her hand playing with the pillow.
"I meant for waking you up. I just...I couldn't go out there yet."
Spike swallowed hard, quivered, and caved. He needed to touch her, if only once. If only to feel that what she had offered him was real. He knew it would likely and rightly sign away his undoing, but he could no sooner stop himself than rip the part of his heart that she owned out of his chest so he could respectively return it. The feel of her was amazing. The way her skin trembled beneath his touch. The whimpering sigh she released at his feel.
He allowed himself this. Closed his eyes briefly to absorb her. Buffy. His Slayer. His goddess.
His own personal Judas Iscariot.
"Don' cry," he whispered. "Please don' cry."
Buffy hardened a bit at that. He didn't blame her. "It's not like I have a choice here."
Spike perked a brow in spite of himself. "'F I'm bein' unfair, then please tell me how. 'Cause the way I see it..."
"No." A small ripple ran through her, and finally she turned to face him. She must have expected his touch to disappear at movement, but it did not. He would not forfeit what little he allowed himself so easily.
But it was even more difficult with her this close. With her warmth enveloping him. With everything they had sacrificed coming together.
Then she started speaking. And his world fell away.
"I wished sometimes that I had died with you, you know?"
"Rot. Don' say that."
"Not because you were gone." There was a shiver and she sighed heavily against his touch. "I could live again. And I did. It was the best thing anyone had ever done for me. But I don't know how to live. Eight years fighting, two times dead, and you kinda forget how to live." Buffy chuckled humorlessly. "I didn't have a death wish. I've had too many of those. And I don't think it was ever...serious. Me wanting to be dead. But my world turned upside down so fast. I knew it was going to happen. Hell, I preached about it for months."
Spike quirked a smile at that.
"But then it happened, and everything changed. I couldn't even go home anymore. There was no home. I couldn't talk to Mom about it, because there was no cemetery anymore. I think there's something about cemeteries that make people talk to the dead..." She paused. "The six-feet-under type of death, you know."
"'Course."
"Well, I didn't have that anymore. And Will...we hadn't been close since before I died. Before jumping off the tower and everything. You know that more than anyone."
Spike nodded again, his treacherous hands playing wistfully with her hair.
"Xander left. We still talk to him and everything, but I think losing Anya was like the last thing he could tolerate. It didn't hit him until later. Kinda like me. Until we were out of there." Buffy paused again, her eyes blurring with tears. "And I couldn't go to you, because there was no you. There was Dawnie...but I didn't want to...and despite how things have changed, hell would freeze over before I talked to Faith."
"How is Faith?"
"Doing what I'm doing. Training. Helping the new girls, and lord, there are a bunch of new girls." She paused thoughtfully. "She came here to help, too. I don't know if she's still here or not."
He nodded. "Still with the principal?"
"They were for a while. She's seeing some congressman now, if you can believe that."
There was an unlikely snort. "Evil an' politics, luv. 'm findin' more an' more that they go hand-in-hand."
A long uncomfortable beat settled between them. Then she was talking again.
"So I think I died a little that day...when you were gone," she whispered, eyes cast downward. "It was real. Didn't hit me until we were halfway across Nevada and stopping, like I said, that I would never see you again. I kinda...I looked around the bus at times, thinking you'd pop up. 'Cause even before, when you left, you were still out there, you know? You left after...things ended between us." He was glad she opted to exclude the manner in which said things had ended. "But you were still out there. Not this time, though. You wouldn't be coming back. And I'd realize it, then my hand would burn and my heart would hurt a little, but I'd ignore it. Move on. I didn't realize that it was me dying."
There was another long pause. Spike was halfway attempted to balk and call her melodramatic, but there was something in her voice that screamed the truth. And it astonished him. Astonished him enough to curl his arm around her waist. To sink a level lower than he wanted to admit himself.
Just for now. Let me have now.
Her eyes fell shut at the enhanced contact, and that enchanted him. "It wasn't enough, though. It came in small increments. Willow finally approached me after we got to London, and I...I guess I hit a wall. Headfirst, full-speed, the works. But we started talking finally. And I told her. I told her everything I missed. All my regrets. Not just about you, but mostly about you. How much I hated myself for not taking chances when they should've been taken. For treating you the way I did that year. It wasn't fair. I was a monster, and because I'm the chick, everything got pinned on you." She met his gaze, and the emotion storming her front stole his breath from his lips. "I'm so sorry, Spike. For that. Did I ever tell you that I'm sorry? I'd do everything different if I could. Go back and...just realize what you were doing for me. How you were...I mean, you didn't act perfectly, but what you did was a result of what I did. And I'll never..."
The sincerity behind her voice astonished him.
"I've never been as sorry for anything in my life as I am for that." She sighed deeply, shifting so that she was lying on her back, her wrist resting against her forehead. "The things I told you, everything...it wasn't true. None of it was true. I had time after time to tell you that last year, and I chickened out. That was my fault." Another grave chuckle rumbled through her lips. "Funny, isn't it? We often pick at the things in others that we're so afraid are coming out in ourselves. I called you a monster because that was what I was. I called you dead inside, because I was dead inside. I wanted to make you the embodiment of everything that was wrong with me so I'd have something hurt. And it did hurt. It hurt me, but it hurt you so much worse." She turned to him, grasping his hand intently. "I'm so sorry for that. I never told you how sorry I am."
He watched her for careful seconds, schooling his own innate need to reassure her. To tell her right off that nothing that had occurred that year had been wholly either one of their faults. But words froze in his throat, and he found himself at a standstill. There was a serious part of him that was still licking at scars; his own words so callously spoken earlier attested to that. But he wouldn't allow himself to take them back, because despite how much he loved her, he had meant them.
"It was Willow's idea that I start dating again. I didn't want to, but she thought it'd be good for me." Buffy expelled and shifted slightly. "And despite whatever you might think, I did have serious reservations about The Immortal. It's not like I went searching for a vampire. Hell, after everything I've been through, a vampire was the last thing I wanted. And...I don't know why I agreed. I really don't. He promised me that he wouldn't, you know, be vampiric." She grinned lightly off his look. "Yeah, stupid Buffy. Of course, I know he was now. Not in the usual ways, 'cause that's not his style, as we well know. But enough. I guess I just turned a blind eye to it. Makes sense. He's not the type of guy to compromise when he can get away with the full steal. I just didn't see it." A frustrated fist pounded relentlessly against the mattress. "And I don't know why, Spike. That's what bothers me most of all. This is...me, you know? I don't turn blind eyes when people are getting hurt. But I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to make the same mistakes over again. I spent so much time hating you for what you were that I never appreciated everything else. Didn't appreciate you for what you weren't." She shook her head and hissed a spiteful breath. "I thought...I guess I thought that I was making it up, somehow. Making up everything that I did to you. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I smiled and nodded and pretended everything was all right, but there's only one you, and I missed you so much." There was a short pause and she turned away again, wiping irately at her eyes. "I guess it was just like you and Harm, but I was trying to pretend it wasn't."
Spike waited a long minute, studying her with both skepticism and empathy. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, but didn't dare will that much of himself away. With one touch needlessly came the want of others, and he didn't trust himself to deny his body the pleasure of her nearness. Having her this close was torture enough. Give a mouse a sodding cookie. And he was effectively torn. He wanted so desperately to believe her. To trust that whatever had concurred between her and The Immortal came out of some innate need to make amends with every wrong that had connected them in the past. But it still hurt. He knew well enough for what he had seen. What he understood about The Immortal. Everything that made him what he was correspondingly made everything else.
He released another deep breath, frowning as his body again called out for water. Strange.There were several truths to be reckoned with-more so than he had presumed to hope against. "'S nice sentiment an' all," he murmured. "But Buffy, I wasn' born in the bloody barn. The Immortal's been around forever. I know his rep, an' I know you. What good li'l girls like you enjoy when the lights go out."
Her eyes fell shut and she waved him off dismissively. "It so completely was not about that."
"Wasn't it?"
"Really. I didn't even know he had a rep for it until..." She flushed and glanced away, and he felt the familiar strings of angered jealousy tighten across his chest, his hand fisting to keep from pounding into the nearest pillow. "And it kinda surprised me," she said quickly. "I think a part of the reputation is more how many lovers he's had. And yeah, the sex was...good...but...it wasn't the best."
Spike blinked at her. "I would take a hint an' run with that one, but I don' feature gettin' anywhere."
A smirk flashed across her face. "He talked to me about you, you know. Just a little. Said you, he, and Angel often came at a crossroads. He also told me about snatching Darla and Dru away on selected occasions."
His eyes widened. "There were selected occasions?"
"You didn't know?"
He paused for a second, gaze dropping to the mattress. "Knew of one. Others? Well, can't say it surprises."
"He also said they were massively pleased with his performance." A frown furrowed her brow. "He was really into himself, now that I think about it. But anyway, I'm guessing that since that was a hundred plus years ago, you've...ummm...well..." She smiled shyly at his expression. "I dunno. Maybe not. Maybe it's because...it doesn't matter now."
A pang struck deep within his chest for no reason other than the promise of her will. And he knew irreparably that whatever distance he put between them, whether for her or his benefit, was something he could never falter. Sometimes pain was worth it, other times it wasn't.
She had always been worth it. He didn't know when that had changed for him.
If it ever had.
"Buffy...with what I said earlier..."
She held up a hand. "Don't."
"With whatever happens, I don' want you walkin' out of here thinkin' that anythin' has changed." Spike paused considerately, tilting his head. "I don' know when things got so wonky. When others started matterin' to me. I was holdin' your hand an' the next thing I knew, I was in Angel's office standin' in the middle of his sodding desk. An' I did wanna get to you, luv. More than anythin'. Tried leavin' several times, but that li'l medallion that made me a champion kept pullin' me back. Guess I was Wolfram an' Hart collateral. Din't rightly matter. The longer I was there, the more my mind started playin' the guilt game on me. An' once I was back in the flesh, goin' to you seemed like the most unfair thing to do." He sighed, his treacherous hand finding hers. Needing to feel her, despite what his cautious mind forewarned. "It kills me to think of you with anyone else. An' yeh, I'm a hypocrite. 'S what I wanted for you when you ran out of the cave. A chance to live an' all that. I was happy to give it to you...I jus' got the wrong end, 'cause it din't last. As for the other, I knew it was inevitable, but doesn' mean I..." He smiled when she grinned at him shyly. "I guess when I figured out who you had moved on to, somethin' snapped. It hurt...because of everythin'. 'm still angry as hell, but that doesn' mean you deserved some of the things I said. I know you're...you grew up from that, Buffy. I jus'...I figured you'd wanna be with someone who..."
"Wouldn't hurt me?"
He nodded. She smiled.
"Wasn't it you who always said I needed a little monster in my man?"
"What you got with me was more than a li'l monster, luv."
"That wasn't your fault. But god, I don't wanna play the blame game." A long sigh passed through her throat, and she shook her head, leaning back. "You said we were beyond 'sorry's.' I want to be beyond them. Very, very beyond them. I don't know what I expected coming here...but yeah, major Buffy presumption in thinking that we could magically work everything out."
"I wish we could."
A watery smile crossed her face. "So do I."
An uncomfortable beat past between them, screaming all the things that remained unsaid. Everything that was yet unaccounted for.
"I meant it, you know."
Spike perked a brow, shifting slightly against the hospital pillow. "Meant it?"
"You didn't believe me...and yeah, that pissed me off, but I understand why you didn't. I just think it's important that you know I meant it." The Cockney froze palpably, mind racing as his eyes went as large as saucers. There was no doubting to what she was referring-no doubting, and yet a part of him needed suddenly to hear the words with more desperation than anything he had ever experienced.
It was unfair, of course. To demand her love after everything that had occurred.
But God, he hadn't changed so radically, had he? This was what he wanted.
"I had a lot of time to make it right," she continued, playing ignorance on part of his reaction. "That's one of my biggest regrets. I could've told you that night in the house. You know?"
A hard swallow. "Yeh." He thought of that night so often. Played out its conclusion a thousand different ways, even if what had transpired between them remained one of the singular most revolutionary events in all his years.
And before he knew what he was doing, his mouth fell open and he bowed again to the turn of a branch that kept on breaking beneath him.
One last time. If only one last time...
"I meant it, too."
She sat up slowly and looked at him.
"What I told you that night. Everythin'. It hasn' changed." He smiled lightly. "Still remains the best bloody night of my life. Don' think anything'll change that."
The air around them grew tight. Constrictive. It was so strange-he remembered the way it felt, falling all those times before. Watching seasons change in her eyes before she even knew to keep up. And there were so many things to say, so many that had remained unsaid. Things she deserved to know. His own imposed distance between them was broken, and on some level, he had known it couldn't last.
A familiar pain was rising in his chest.
He loved her too much to give her up. Despite how she hurt him; and he wasn't thrilled by what that made him, but for the impossible affection of one woman, he would sacrifice anything.
And he hurt her, too. That knowledge killed him. Seemed they couldn't take one step without destroying each other.
Things had changed, though. So much had changed. She wasn't the empty shell of a woman that resolved her issues by making him the issue, and his own hostility aside; she hadn't been for a while. Last year had seen developments that took what they had and placed it above levels of intimacy. Sharing himself with someone he didn't deserve in ways he had never imagined. But that was last year and things were different now.
They had grown apart in alike ways.
And of course, there were some things that were worth it and always would be.
At some point, he had covered the space between them. She was so close; he could hear her heart thudding against him. Pounding. Her eyes were large and the scent of fresh tears encircled her with poignant repose. Buffy looked at him for a long, studious moment, and finally shook her head before emotion could cloud her again. "Is there no way to fix this?"
And that was it. No more pretending. No more guarding himself behind self-imposed shields. He loved her with everything he was, and he wasn't going to deny himself that any longer.
It hurt.
"I meant what I said that night," Spike whispered. "I love you, Buffy. I think I always have...in one way, or another."
The emotion storming her eyes threatened to overflow. "Oh God, I love you, too. And I'm sorry." Her voice cracked and she glanced down; there was nothing that struck him quite as deeply as the sight of her grief. "I'm so sorry for everything. For making you believe that it...your soul meant nothing to me. It meant the world."
He nodded, because he believed her. "I know, luv. I'm sorry for that. Sorry for a lot of things." A long breath hissed through his teeth. "'ve been a git."
"You earned it."
"There's a lot to work through, here."
"I know. Oh God, I know." Her face threatened to crumple again. "But I wanna try. Please, Spike, can we try?"
That was it. The rest of his resistance fell to the wayside, and he pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest and burying his nose in her hair. "Yes. God, yes. I never wanted anythin' else." He pulled back just a bit, smiling through his own tears, and kissed her softly with reassurance. "I was...earlier-"
"He...I needed to prove to myself that I had changed."
"You have." Spike smiled delicately and cupped her face, pressing his lips to her forehead. "We both have." A sigh tumbled through his lips. "I've crossed the world for you more times than I can count, sweetheart," he murmured. "I was a wanker to think I'd ever do anythin' but."
Buffy pulled back only slightly, resting her brow against his as she nodded. "We'll work this out?"
A grin tickled his lips. "We're both as hardheaded as they come."
"I'm not too late?"
"I'm surprised I even managed to let you think that." Spike kissed her cheek reverently. "There's never too late with us. I thought there was once, but you turned my world upside down on it. You've forgiven me for so much. More than I reckon I deserve."
"You, too." Buffy attempted a smile but couldn't quite make it. "I just want the hurt to be in the past. There's been so much hurt...I just..."
"'m not goin' anywhere."
"Promise?"
There was a significant pause at that; he released a quaking breath and met her eyes again for the satisfaction of his word. There would be no leaving again. No bursting into flames, no more sucker-punches and name-calling. No more of anything that stopped them before. Whatever happened in the future would be new. There would undoubtedly be tears and anger and arguments and things said that they wished they could take back. But there would be no more running. Not from this. Not from either one of them.
To turn away now would cost him every sense of self. He was a fool, even for a second, to think it otherwise.
"Promise."
And there it was. A smile he had conquered worlds for in a time that didn't seem so long ago. The same that haunted his dreams and greeted him upon every awakening. The same he had sacrificed himself for time and time again, because once was never enough. A million times later could never be enough.
Something arose within him. There were still worlds out there to conquer.
And he would find them. Every last one.
If it meant he could keep her.
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